It was the end of three long days of sensuous, sexual torture. She had been tied in many positions, each more uncomfortable than the last, as he had raped her, cut her, whipped her, and caressed her still lovely body with hot irons, all the while reassuring her that her only escape was death, and that her death would come when and how he chose it. She had gone through many emotions, fear, anger, a desire for a quick and painless death, resolution, and now, much to her surprise and humiliation, pleasure. She wouldn’t have wanted to admit it, but he was the best fuck she’d ever had. But now, he explained, the time had come to end their relationship.
He had her standing up now, her feet clamped the floor about a foot and a half apart. Her wrists were tied together behind her back. The gag that had stifled her screams all this time was still there. There was an empty basin, waist-high, a few feet in front of her. He tied her elbows together, wrenching her shoulders painfully back and making her lovely tits stick out all the more.
He went around to her front, smiled at her, and fashioned a leather collar around her neck. There was a ring on the front, like a dog collar. He looked admiringly at her breasts, fondled them, kissed them, and bit them hard. Then, one at a time, he snapped mouse traps on her nipples and added weights to the mouse traps. "Nothing’s too painful for my little dear," he reassured her.
He attached a leash to her collar, then pulled the other end of it through a ring attached to the bottom of the basin. He pulled until her head was in the basin, then he tied off the leash.
Now standing beside her, he attached a rope that was hanging from the ceiling to the one that was around her wrists. Then he yanked on a pulley, and her wrists were pulled painfully upward.
He stepped back to admire his work. Her ass was in the air, and her head was bent over into the basin. The collar around her neck and the weights hanging from her nipples pulled her cruelly down, while the rope on her wrists pulled her up. She was as lovely as a woman could get.
He positioned a hose over her head, and turned it on to a slight trickle. She could feel the water come down her hair and into the basin, where it would slowly drown her. He picked up a fork, walked behind her, and began to lovingly draw patterns in her back while he fucked her asshole.
She stood there, cramped in that incredibly uncomfortable position, feeling his cock deep in her and the stabbing pains in her back, as the water rose. It began to reach her chin and the tip of her nose. There was something in it--she wasn’t sure what--that made it sting her skin. Some began to soak through her gag and burn her mouth. This guy thought of everything. A part of her was glad that she had fallen into the hands of an expert.
Then he came--dramatically--pumping her asshole full of semen. When he was done, the burning water was up to her mouth, and she was constantly spitting it out. He shut off the water.
"Wouldn’t do to have you drown while I’m not fucking you," he explained. He kissed her gently on the back of the neck. "Why don’t we take a break."
For two, maybe three hours she stood in that horrible position, spitting water. When he came back, his hand played with the burned stump that earlier games had left of her clitoris. "Hello, again," he said. "It’s time for you to make a dramatic exit."
He whipped her a few times to open up the wounds on her back, then he turned on the water to an even smaller trickle than before. Then he began to fuck her again, this time in the cunt, while he rubbed salt, lemon juice, and hot sauce into her wounds.
Slowly the water came up past her face, and filled her lungs. The feeling was horrible. The last thing she felt was the burning in her lungs, the stinging pain in her back, her wrenched joints, and his cum bursting joyfully within her. She knew horribly, wonderfully, that this was right. This was how it should be.
By the time he finished cumming, she was dead.
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